A perfect misunderstanding
by the-angel-that-stole-the-blue
Summary: Sherlock doesn't understand why John is all, jumbled up. And he wants to help him but he can't think of how. Maybe his more primal I instincts will help him and John out. I'm a new writer so this is something I worked on for a while and I like so I hope you all enjoy it as well.


Well since the first story I wanted to post was deleted, all my own fault. I will rewrite it but, later. I have this one I can post because I had started writing it in my English class, hope y'all like it.

Dark and thick curly black hair was placed upon a long, drawn face. Bright blue eyes dimmed by late night cases. Files were scattered about him or thrown recklessly on a pile of books stacked precariously beside him. Slender and pale fingers held a violin to his neck, while the other hand tipped the bow about letting it sing out the notes to Queen Anne. His pyjamas striped and thoroughly messy. He released a long drawn out sigh from his lungs to only refill them with the old smoke filled air of the messy room. He stared over at a can of yellow spray paint from and old case and finally willed himself to stand. His tall slender frame reached a hight of 6'' 5 Forcing him to nearly tower over his roommate John. His stride brought him to the can quickly and he scooped it up in his empty hands, for he had placed his violin carefully on the ring stained coffee table. He shook it about a little as he walked quickly to the wall opposite the couch. He made easy work of using the florescent yellow to paint a smiley face on the dark floral print wall. He recapped the can and tossed it aside. Moving back to the couch to scoop up his hand gun pointing the barrel at the innocent face he had painted on the wall, his long fingers tightened around the handle while one slipped itself around the trigger. He let seven shots ring out before his only friend ran into the room startled.

"What in bloody hell are you doing sherlock?!" He shouted at the taller. After he realized they were in no danger.

"Isn't it obvious? I'm bored." He stated and with that john walked away, irritated and in great need of a cup of tea.

"Make me one as well." The ashen man said to john already knowing what he was heading into the kitchen to do. His voice left no room for reasoning by john so he just sighed and made his roommate what he requested. Mechanically adding two sugars and no milk. This was happening to much he realized. He grabbed a few ginger biscuits on his way out for a snack. Sherlock slipped the delicate glass ware from Johns fingers bringing the cup to his lips savoring the taste of the mint. He watched as John sank himself into his chair, the same one he has sat on every single day. The cloth thin and slightly dirty. He stared openly wondering what was of with the doctor. This was new, he could not really find what was wrong with his friend, but it just kept bugging him. A shout was helled in the back of his throat as he grew frustrated. He couldn't deduct anything from the norm. John had the same were face and tired eyes. His short sandy hair brushed at an angle which he could never understand and then he saw it.

A slight bulge in his doctor's pants. Easily concealed by the dark room and the choice of pants John had chosen earlier that evening before he had gone on his date... it clicked. In Sherlock head it all fit perfectly together. John must have brought his date home and from the faint lipstick stains on the older man's lips he deduced they must have shared a particularly passionate kiss at the door. The pink mark slid down past his bottom lip. Sooo...either she was tipsy which didn't seem likely the faint smell of aged whine screamed that they went somewhere nicer, definitely not a bar. So he must have been startled and jumped while she wasn't worried...why not she was probably raised around a parent in the military. Her perfume which was left lingering on John's jumper smelled of chauver for an older women. Then it must have been her father, she was raised around the military. Must have father issues dating John wanting to be with a fatherly figure, slightly older man like John that was military trained and had even slightest resemblance to her own father.

"It wouldn't have worked out between you too. So don't be upset. In the end it was for the better." He told the good doctor and John just faced him in awe. His mouth curls up in a slight smile. Of course he had something to say..the damn man always did. The elder thought growing uncomfortable in his jeans, shifting slightly but holding back a moan from the pleasurable friction. The sight of John biting his lip and smiling stirred up a feeling in Sherlock's stomach. Something new and absolutely obnoxious with it leaving a "tingling" and all.

_ John's pov_

I wouldn't be able to hang around normally much longer. The bulge in my pants growing more and more noticeable I could have sworn Sherlock has seen it. The smug bastard i just wanted to get home and have some time with another human being albea i wanted something more physical. Not that i wouldn't mind if my damned roommate showed some compassion or even interest in me.

"I'm going to my room" I sigh climbing up biting my finger to keep a gasp from escaping me. That will have made it way to obvious to Sherlock what i am going to do. And I'm already embarrassed enough by the nasty little thoughts that start picking up speed as I see the cocky, sexy, bastard lift that cup to his beautiful cupid bow lips. Now I'm rushing to my room eager to get there so that I could finally relish in some nice intimate human touches even if it is my own.

With a sigh I close my door reaching my hands down to reach for my belt. Slipping it from its metal clasp and quickly undo my button. Moving over to the bed I relish in the feel of freedom as I slip my jeans and boxers down a little. I d on't need to get them down far I plan on making this quick so I could return to Sherlock's side. The cold air was extra stimulation as I teas my fingers around the tip tilting my head back and letting my eyes shut, just pretending that it was Sherlock's own hand wrapped around my shaft now. Pumping me roughly. I let out a low moan enjoying the idea of how Sherlock's face would look if it just happened to be his lips wrapped around me. I groan out.

"Sh..sheerrrlockk" I grasp the sheets with one hand as the other speeds up and my release comes all to soon I bite my lip hard to keep from crying out loud his sweat name.

I open my eyes slowly not ready to go back yet even though I know I have to clean up but I'm not bothered by that I'm bothered that Sherlock's blue eyes were focused on me slightly sprawled out on my be jacking of to thoughts of him. I gulped in a breath of air and tried to talk but he just turned on his heels and walked away, even leaving the door open.

"Shit" I yell.

O O

Well then. That is honestly the first time I have written anything close to smut so I hope it was ok. And please comment on what you thought about writing in first person. I don't see it to often and so I don't know if that's because it's terrible or what. I would like to also let u know that this is not the lest chapter and its not a one shot, it should go on for a few chapters. So go ahead and leave me something that could help a new writer but until then...

Chow ( ^-^)ノ∠※。.:*:・'° And has some sparkles.


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